Pen My Soliloquy
by Dusty Emotion
Summary: Not even a second later she was in front of him, shoving him as hard as she could, angry tears brimming in her eyes. “Does anything rattle you, Malfoy!” she cried. “If I told you I hate you right now, would that even matter to you?” FIN.
1. Full of Grace

_Chapter inspired by Sarah McLachlan's beautiful song, "Full of Grace."_   
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The days were always so dark in December. Even during the brightest time of day, the sky would still be bleak, sometimes specked with snowflakes, sometimes not.  
  
He didn't mind the darkness.  
  
A vague reflection of the moon was visible through the mosaic windows. He smiled, if only bitterly, as he watched the light play with the colored glass. Beautiful, sure, but this day didn't have room for beauty. Not for him, at least. This day would be filled with despicable things. He wasn't ready – not yet, not ever – but he didn't give himself the privilege of a choice.  
  
The small church had an odd serenity to it. It was one of the places where he could truly escape. It was so far away from the world he knew that he couldn't help but embrace it with relief. Sometimes he thought that if he sat there long enough, concentrated on the psalms and prayers hard enough, then maybe he would feel cleansed. Maybe then he could start over.  
  
Why couldn't he find peace in faith like so many other people had? Better yet, why couldn't he find peace in anything? Standing in the middle of the aisle, candles from the pews dancing across his blank face, he could only think of one thing that matched that description. And he was about to let it go.  
  
The hand that was dug into his pocket clutched a wrinkled parchment with a strong, slightly trembling fist. A letter he had spent so much time writing. So many failed attempts, so much paper that had gone to waste and he'd ended up with something he still wasn't quite satisfied with. He wasn't good at this sort of thing. Explaining all the things that went through his head.  
  
But she deserved that, if nothing else. He might've been oblivious, even careless at times, but he knew she would ask this of him. He also knew that whatever he was going to say wasn't going to be enough.  
  
_I could try and explain myself to you, but what would the use of that be? You see, I know you. Better than you may think. You would ask me for more than I can give you. And believe me, I know you deserve that, you deserve so much more, but I'm not cut out for it. You can't ask me to explain. I'll break if I try._  
  
Steely gray eyes scanned the empty church one last time before he turned around and walked down the scarcely lit aisle with long, heavy steps. All good things must come to an end … wasn't that what they all said? He felt like it had just begun seconds ago instead of years. He hadn't realized…  
  
A soft wind rushed by and cooled his flushed face as he stepped outside, immediately greeted with a world wrapped in a glittering layer of snow. He was cold, but then, not really – it didn't matter anyway. Almost in complete trance, he put on his leather gloves and hid them under his cape, exhaling a long breath that turned into cold clouds of air the instant it passed his lips.  
  
Every movement in his body froze when he spotted her. Standing by a snow-covered log not too far from him, she looked at him with a silent tranquility that was so unlike her. Tiny snowflakes were stuck in her dark, wavy hair and it looked lighter, almost like a halo. But her eyes – they were expectant. Distant … almost cold. He didn't even have to question why that was.  
  
She already knew.  
  
_Don't you know that you're the only thing in my life that's worth anything? When I'm with you, I'm never hungry or thirsty or in need of anything but you. I never imagined you could have this kind of effect on me. Never, in all the years we were competitors in school. Do you even understand the consequences of what we've gotten ourselves into? But I don't know what to do. I_ need_ you.  
  
I wasn't brought up to needing anybody._  
  
He hadn't even made it all the way to her before she spoke.  
  
"Why here, Draco? Of all places … what do you have to tell me?"  
  
He sighed lightly. It was an involuntary reflex. He wasn't ready for this yet. Other than that, there was nothing on his face or in his posture to indicate that he felt anything other than indifference. "I think you know already," he replied hoarsely.  
  
She was trying to be strong. She really was. For all in the world, she wished that she could mirror that collected façade he seemed to carry around with him like a protection blanket. She'd even prepared herself for this moment, but she still had to close her eyes for just a second to hide the pain she knew would be there.  
  
He never asked her to come to this church – his church – unless it was a dire emergency. Or he wanted to talk about the two of them. Wanted to tell her something that he knew would devastate her. She knew this would be the only place he would tell her that they couldn't be together anymore. It was either two options.  
  
She hadn't heard of any dire emergencies for a while.  
  
"I see," she nodded, swallowing her heartbreak in one take. She crossed her arms over her heaving chest, inspecting his expression carefully. "Do you have the decency to tell me why?"  
  
His gray eyes had dulled in the few minutes he'd been with her. From what, she didn't know. "You knew this was gonna happen someday," he said quietly, averting her gaze with expertise. "We both knew."  
  
Her regard never faltered. "I'm still waiting for the 'why' part."  
  
He looked at her then, aggravation reflecting in his voice as he spoke. "What do you want me to say, Hermione? That I'm tired of keeping this a secret? That it'll never, not in a million years, last till the end? That we'll get virtually slaughtered by our friends and family if they ever found out? Please, tell me when to stop, 'cause I can keep going."  
  
"That's not good enough," she sneered harshly, the sound breaking the dull tranquility that the snow landscape had wrapped them in. "Those are all excuses, Draco. They're everybody else's excuses and explanations. _Not_ yours." Her expression suddenly changed – despair and confusion mixed with the anger. "You can't … after two years, you can't just say that and think it'll make everything okay … like it didn't mean anything…"  
  
He was slowly, but surely dissolving. He just wanted her to leave and wanted to her to stay and God, if she kept looking at him like that he would break down right then and there. What was supposed to come out as a harsh argument turned into a pained whisper. "It meant something, okay? It was everything, Hermione, you bloody well know that. I just…"  
  
_You're going to want me to explain why I'm ending this between us, because you need answers to everything. It all has to add up in a perfect unity to create the best spell or the finest potion. That's okay though, because that's who you are and it's part of what I love the most about you.  
  
But what if I told you that the only reason I have is that I'm scared?  
  
Because I am. I'm petrified that I might not be able to do or say the right things that'll make you feel just as appreciated as you should be. I never really had to answer to anybody but myself before you came along. It took a bit of getting used to, but I got the hang of it eventually. It's not me though. It's not who I am._  
  
He sighed again and turned away from her, took a few angry steps in the opposite direction. "Damnit, do you think this is easy for me?"  
  
"I don't know," she deadpanned. "Then again, when do I know anything that's going on with you? Sometimes I could swear you were made out of pure stone."  
  
He whirled around swiftly, staring at her in wonder. "Well, I'm sorry if my bloody _heart_ breaking isn't good enough for you, but it's the best I can do."  
  
Not even a second later, she was in front of him, shoving him as hard as she could, angry tears brimming in her eyes. "Does _anything_ rattle you, Malfoy?!" she cried brokenly, shoving him hard again. "If I told you I hate you right now, would that even matter to you?"  
  
He prevented a third push by grabbing both her wrists and holding her in place, barely noticing her fight against his hold. "You don't mean that," he said firmly, his voice etched with despair, silently wondering who he was trying to convince.  
  
She stopped struggling long enough to meet his gaze, stopped long enough to see the pain that flickered in his eyes. She tried to breathe, just to exhale, but all that came out was a desperate sob. "I want to," she croaked as she fell into him, leaned her head against his strong chest. "God, I want to," she repeated in a whisper.  
  
_If I was different, or could change myself like I want to, I know I could love you much better than this._  
  
"It's better this way," he reasoned quietly, resting his head on top of hers and closing his eyes in silent longing. "We're too different, Hermione."  
  
"I don't care about that," she huffed in disgust. Lifting her head again, she caught his gaze before he had a chance to reply. "Is it because…" she began, choking on the words as her eyes watered up again. "Because you don't love me anymore?"  
  
He gasped, so faintly that he wasn't even sure if he had actually exhaled or if he'd just stopped breathing all together. Still looking at her, silent for a while, trying to keep his emotions under control. How could she even ask that? Didn't she know how much…  
  
His hand came to rest on her cheek, stroking it lightly, with more affection than she had felt from him in a long time. Her eyes fell closed – she didn't have a choice in the matter. Leaning into the touch with gratitude, she could only feel him hold her head tighter, pull her closer to him still.  
  
"No," he finally said, his voice hoarse with emotion. "No, that's not why. That'll never…"  
  
She opened her eyes again and all she could see was him. Those deep, gray eyes that always showed her much more than he thought he allowed her to. She offered him a trembling smile and slowly, not looking away even for a second, leaned closer. Those gray eyes were the last thing she saw before she closed her eyes.  
  
Their lips had barely touched before he pulled away. "No." Taking a few steps back, he tried to stop his heart from beating so fast and his hands from shaking so hard. "No." He stopped short, couldn't take another step, and averted his eyes to the ground.  
  
Why – why would she do that? Make him weak when he was fighting every last part of his body to stay strong. If he gave in like he wanted to, like he so desperately craved, he wouldn't be able to finish what he'd started.  
  
He had to finish it.  
  
She stumbled back, almost fell, as if she'd been stricken hard. Her lips were burning. He'd barely touched them, but they were already on fire. She stared at him in silence, tears now falling freely down her cheeks. She had felt it. She knew she had. The way he had almost succumbed to her right then. The faint brush of his lips against hers and his hands cupping her face a little tighter, if only for a second.  
  
What was holding him back?  
  
"You still haven't given me a reason," she whispered. She didn't trust her voice any longer, knew that if she tried to speak, she would break down and lose whatever shred of dignity she had left.  
  
"Do you really want to know?" he asked, meeting her gaze again with a regained sense of control.  
  
She nodded mutely.  
  
Snowflakes were still falling steadily around them, muffling their cries, hiding their tears and protecting them from the world. Draco took a deep breath, his chest rising, and didn't let his gaze falter as he calmly said, "My father decided it was time for me to settle down. He found me a fiancé. A Pureblood."  
  
_I'll do whatever it takes to make you let me go. I'll lie if I have to. No matter what I do, I'll hurt you. You don't know how much that kills me to realize. I've hurt you enough as it is, haven't I? Sometimes it seems like it's the only thing I'm good for when it comes to you.  
  
Hurting you is easy, because it's the only thing that can push you away when you get too close. I wish I could love you just as easily. I wish I could let you in. Even though you know me better than anybody, you know so much that it scares me to death sometimes – you still don't know everything about me. No one ever will._  
  
He struggled not to lose his calm façade as he watched her crumble. Fought himself not to run over to her when tears started running down her cold cheeks again. Fought not to yell, "I'm sorry" as loud as he could.  
  
His father probably would find a bride for him eventually. No, he wasn't lying to her. He wasn't.  
  
He could've hit her, he could've told her that he never loved her, that he couldn't stand the sight of her – and it wouldn't have hurt nearly as much. A lone sob escaped her throat as she stared at him in complete disbelief. Cold and unreachable as always. She hated it. She hated that coldness. She hated that he wasn't hers anymore. She hated how much she loved him when he occasionally let her in. She hated that he had just gone back to his old, discriminating ways.  
  
She hated that she was crying because of it.  
  
Barely sensing anything anymore, she flung herself at him, knocking them both to the ground and pounding on his chest as hard as she could, angry cries mixing with desperate sobs.  
  
"Go to _hell_, Malfoy!" she screamed, crying and hitting and not even sensing that he wasn't trying to stop her. "How could you _do_ this to me? I loved you so much … I would've done _anything!_ Why didn't you want to try? Why wouldn't you let me try…?"  
  
Her fists were knocking the air out of his lungs, but he didn't care. Her tears were falling from her cheeks and dripping on his face and he considered them his own the second they trickled down his skin. He couldn't stand to cry, but he was. Her tears were his.  
  
He took every punch for a while, not saying anything, just listening to her scream at him – cry for him. Breaking a little more with each word. Finally he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her harshly to him, holding her as her screams increased and she tried to hit him again, but his hold was too strong. His hand tangled in her dark hair and he pressed her head against his chest as she screamed and kicked, but he wouldn't let her go, he couldn't, and then she was crying and holding onto him for dear life. He ran his hands up and down her back, kissed her head and whispered sweet nothings to her as her tiny body shook with the force of her tears.  
  
"I love you," he whispered over and over again, so many times that it started to sound like a comforting lullaby in her ears. "God, I'm sorry, Hermione. I'm so sorry. There's nothing I can do."  
  
"No," she hiccupped, holding him even tighter. "That's not-"  
  
"Yes it is," he interrupted. "It's out of my hands now. Please. Try to understand."  
  
_I don't think it'll be possible for me to love anyone as much I love you, Hermione Granger. You're my life. And you will be the death of me. With just one word, you can crush me. Just one look and I'll do whatever you ask of me. You opened my eyes, my love. And without you, they will close again._  
  
In a few seconds, she was out of his arms, on her feet and staring down at him in disbelief. "Understand?" she repeated, spitting out the word like it was poison. "I'm not ever going to _understand_, Draco. How you could just throw this away because I'm not…" Her voice cracked and she looked up, her eyes watery, and took a deep breath. "I can't change who I am," she said a moment later. Looking down at him again, she added, "And apparently, neither can you."  
  
With that, she turned around and walked away. Holding herself close, she was unable to stop her tears, but she didn't turn around. Hoping he would call for her, but knowing that he wouldn't. She was leaving a part of herself behind, but it didn't matter. That part of her would always be his.  
  
He watched her silhouette grow more blurry as the snowfall grew thicker. Still sitting in the cold snow, but not even registering how much he was trembling from the cold. He could only watch her walk away. Hear one word echo in his head over and over again. A word he couldn't get past his lips.  
  
_Stay._  
  
His hand still clutching the forgotten letter in his pocket.  
  
_Always remain the unique person that you are and one day, I know you'll find that man who can give himself up completely for you.  
  
I just wish it could've been me._


	2. Fallen

_Chapter inspired by Sarah McLachlan's wonderful song, "Fallen" (and partly by Lifehouse's equally wonderful song, "Everything.")_   
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He'd been home for hours. Sitting in front of the fireplace and staring into the scorching flames with a faraway gaze, the globular glass in his hand still full with brandy. Just thinking.   
  
He should've been warmed up by then, but he wasn't. He'd couldn't remember ever feeling so cold before.   
  
It wasn't supposed to hurt like this. He'd been prepared. For weeks, while he was with her, laughing and loving and touching and whispering, he'd tried to envision what would happen when he'd let her go. He'd looked at her when she was deeply engrossed in one of her books or singing to herself as she was preparing lunch or when she was just sleeping soundly at night, and had started to piece together whatever speech he would give her when the day arrived.   
  
_It won't work out. I can't do this anymore. I can't keep pretending that I'm okay with this. That I'm okay with being scared all the time._   
  
But then she'd turned to him and smiled and all he'd been thinking about was forgotten.   
  
And in the end, nothing had turned out as he'd thought it would. He never thought he could feel … this. This kind of darkness. He didn't think it would be so unbearable and … empty, at the same time. He wanted to cry – God, he just wanted to feel _something_ – but he couldn't. So he remained as collected as always. Maybe even more so.   
  
Perhaps he needed her to be able to do all of those … ordinary things. To tell him that yes, it was okay to get angry sometimes, it was okay for him to have a horrible day and just be quiet for a while. It was okay to cry a little, sometimes, if he needed it. He never did cry, but he knew that if it ever would happen, it would be all right as long as he was with her while he did it.   
  
She'd told him all those things, told him it was okay to let go every once in a while, and she was one of the few people who'd ever seen him laugh so hard that his sides ached and his eyes watered.   
  
He swirled the dark liquid in his glass absentmindedly, his gaze still fixed on the fire as his father appeared in the doorway. Not bothering to feign any kind of emotion upon his sudden presence, he simply raised the glass and let a bit of liquor wet his lips. "Evening, father."   
  
"Evening, Draco." Lucius walked calmly across the room – taking his time, as usual. Draco knew he had sought him out for a reason – after all, he wasn't the type of person who would come up to anyone just to talk for the sake of catching up – but he also knew that it would only be revealed when his father was good and ready. "I didn't hear you come back. How long have you been home?"   
  
Draco finally tore his gaze from the fireplace and was momentarily blinded when he looked at his father who was now getting comfortable in the plush chair across from him. "A couple of hours ago, I think," he said noncommittally. He didn't know. He didn't care.   
  
He was still so cold.   
  
Lucius nodded and leaned back in his seat, his long, white hair settling over his shoulders in an almost majestic motion. Sometimes Draco wanted to _be_ him. "I thought we could talk for a moment," he said slowly, each word seemingly only slipping out after much deliberation. "About your future, Draco. Your education is over now. Have you given any consideration as to what you want to do now that you've graduated from Hogwarts?"   
  
_Run away. Be with her. Make her see. Apologize. Apologize. Apologize._   
  
"I'm not sure yet," he replied, placing the brandy glass back on the living room table, virtually untouched. "There's still so many options. And I have time to figure it out."   
  
His father frowned, his fingers lightly drumming on the arm of his chair. "I'll speak to some of my friends first thing tomorrow, see what I can do. Harold could probably get you a good job at the Observer. Not as a journalist, of course, but you'll be able to work your way up the ladder."   
  
Draco simply closed his eyes and nodded. He wasn't up for a discussion. Not tonight. He just wanted his father to leave so he could be alone and think. Or maybe slip out of the manor unnoticed and run to her, as fast as humanly possible, and make her take him back. It didn't really matter which.   
  
"We also need to talk about a family of your own." Lucius had the gift of being able to change the subject before you could blink. "It's about time, don't you think? Settle down, take a wife…"   
  
Draco was sure he was gonna get sick at any moment.   
  
"It will only improve your social status once you start your new job," Lucius continued, visibly unaffected with the fact that he was single-handedly mapping out his son's future without needing any kind of consent from the younger man. "People are more comfortable hiring a man with a family, Draco. They are more reliable, 'cause they have more to lose." His eyes scanned the room like he was inspecting a humid dungeon. "Your wife would have to be someone from an important family, of course. That miss Parkinson seems like a delightful creature. Have you ever considered-"   
  
"What if I've already found someone?" Draco blurted out, stopping his father's one-sided conversation. He had to ask. Maybe he would understand…   
  
Lucius' eyebrow raised in surprise. "You have? Well, that's … marvelous. Saves us both some trouble, doesn't it?" He leaned forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees. "What family is she from? Have they ever been over for dinner? It wouldn't happen to be miss Parkinson, would it? I say, Draco, that would be a fine choice for a wife."   
  
Draco's heart plummeted at his father's words. "No," he replied, his voice etched with only the slightest bit of tension. "There's no one. I was just wondering if I could find a bride of my own, if the opportunity should ever arise."   
  
"Why, of course." Lucius frowned a little. "Surely that would be the best solution. Son, are you okay? You don't seem like yourself today."   
  
Draco almost winced at the inquiry. No, he wasn't fine. How could he be _fine?_ He needed her back, he couldn't function otherwise, and now his father was practically promising him off to any random girl who had enough Pure blood in her veins to be considered worthy. Just as he had told Hermione. How was that for bloody irony?   
  
"I think it might be something I've eaten," he said instead, turning his gaze back to the fireplace. "Sorry, father. I'll be better in the morning."   
  
Lucius remained silent for a moment, studying his son who was seemingly so far away. "I see more than you think I do, son," he said calmly, holding the younger man's gaze when he looked back at him in wonder. "A proper wife would be good for you. Think about it." He stood up from his seat and was about to walk out of the room, but hesitated and turned around again. "You need to learn to distinguish the good from the bad, Draco. Clearly whatever you've…" He paused for a moment, choosing his words carefully. "Eaten … is not good for you. The best thing would probably be to stay away from it in the future, don't you think?"   
  
Draco's eyes widened as Lucius turned back around and walked out of the room as calmly as he'd entered it. He drew in a shaky breath and fell back in his seat, closing his eyes when his head hit the back of the couch.   
  
He knew. What was even worse was, he was right. His father was bloody _right_ and he hated it. He'd known right from the start how bad it was for him, but he hadn't been able to stop himself. Everything had been so exciting at first, so new and forbidden and it had intoxicated him. But soon it grew into this inescapable need, this deep fear of losing and hundreds, thousands of tiny little bubbles of happiness tickling in his stomach.   
  
And now this freezing cold from his afternoon outside in the snow that he couldn't seem to shake off.   
  
A fast decision coming over him, he got up from his seat and strode across the room, peeking outside the door to see if anyone was around. He wasn't surprised when he found the hallway empty – his parents slept in the other end of the mansion and had never noticed when he snuck out at night. Still, he tiptoed towards the coat rack beside the front door where his cape hung. Once he'd slipped into it, he glanced over his shoulder one last time and opened the door to the cold night outside.   
  
He needed to see her … just one more time. 

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She wasn't sure how she'd gotten home. She'd wandered around for hours, not really going anywhere, but never stopping. She'd cried one moment, yelled out in anger the next, and always, always wondered if he was behind her. If he was trying to catch up to her, trying to stop her from walking away. So she'd slowed down more than once, even though she hated herself for it. She didn't _want_ him to come after her, she wasn't interested in hearing whatever explanation he would make up. But God, did she need him to do just that.   
  
And all of a sudden, she was standing in front of her home, feeling cold and frail and completely exhausted. Most of all she was just drained. There was nothing in the world that could affect her right then. Nothing at all.   
  
She walked the few steps up the driveway and opened the door, immediately greeted with the sight of her roommate. Ginny was curled up on the couch situated in the living room, reading what Hermione only could assume was homework. She looked up and smiled when she saw her friend stand in the hallway. "Hey. How'd it go?"   
  
Hermione didn't answer. Didn't even look up as she kicked her boots off and threw her cape on the floor, walking into her room and closing the door silently behind her. Ginny sat up, confusion showing on her young face. Soon after though, her expression changed into one of sympathy. She could only guess what had happened, and judging from her friend's behavior just then, it had to be bad.   
  
Throwing her blanket aside and getting up from the couch, she padded barefoot across the room to Hermione's door and knocked quietly. When she got no answer, she opened the door and stepped inside. She sighed sympathetically when she saw her friend, already clad in her cotton pajamas, sit on her bed, hunched over and her legs curled up underneath herself. Her arms hugging herself tightly. "Honey," Ginny said gently, walking the last few steps to the bed and sitting down next to Hermione. "What happened? Did he say something to-"   
  
"It's over," Hermione whispered, the words hitting her harder than she thought they would. She rocked back and forth in her hunched over position, her hair hiding her face from the world and she fought against the fear that gripped her at the sound of those two, small words.   
  
Ginny sat still, dumbfounded. "What?"   
  
Hermione shook her head, still rocking back and forth. "Don't make me say it again."   
  
"No, of course not," Ginny assured quietly, pulling her friend into her arms and following her rocking rhythm. "I'm sorry, sweetie," she whispered, planting a small kiss on top of Hermione's head. "I didn't know you-"   
  
"He's engaged," Hermione croaked, almost unable to get the words out. "He says his father found a fiancé for him. There's nothing he can do."   
  
Ginny resisted the urge to roll her eyes and settled for a quiet huff. "That family," she mumbled, shaking her head to herself. "Do you need anything? I could make you a cup of tea if you'd like."   
  
Hermione was quiet for a moment, her body still and her breathing uneven. "No thanks," she declined, sitting up straight again and pulling out of the embrace. Ginny was a bit surprised not to see a single tear streak on her cheeks. "I just need to … process this." She buried her head in her hands and let out a shaky sigh, relaxing a bit when Ginny's hand rubbed her back in a soothing motion. "He was so … cold," she continued quietly, her words muffled in her hands. "He hasn't been like that when we're alone in a long time. I couldn't … for a moment I couldn't even recognize him."   
  
Ginny had known about her friend's relationship with Draco since the two girls had moved in together a year earlier. As far as she knew, she was the only person who'd ever been told. Draco even knew about it and hadn't objected. Perhaps he'd understood that, despite the thrill their secret gave them both, Hermione needed to talk to _someone_ every once in a while.   
  
That, as far as Ginny was concerned, was probably one of the few decent things he'd done for her during the past two years.   
  
He'd made her happy, sure. He'd also made her sacrifice more things than any girl her age should be allowed to. It wasn't that Draco hadn't sacrificed a lot for this relationship as well, because he had, and she could recognize a man in love when she saw one, so perhaps he wasn't all despicable and the serpent she'd considered him to be for years on end. Still, he hadn't been willing to sacrifice enough, and now her friend was left behind without a single warning beforehand so she could've been prepared.   
  
At that moment, Ginny could honestly say that she hated Draco Malfoy. And even so, also knew that Hermione didn't and never would.   
  
"Maybe … it was for the best," she said softly, knowing she was treading on dangerous ground. "It couldn't go on like this, Hermione. All this secrecy. You already know that he wouldn't…"   
  
Hermione's head flew up before Ginny could finish her sentence. "Wouldn't what?" she snapped. "Wouldn't give up his reputation for me? His father's bloody _precious_ esteem? You know, the last thing I need right now is to be reminded of that."   
  
"I know," Ginny replied quickly, remorsefully. "I didn't mean to. I'm sorry."   
  
"I know you don't like him, but-"   
  
"I don't know him like you do," Ginny interrupted, placing her hand on top of her friend's in an effort to calm her. "I don't," she repeated firmly. "So don't you start caring what I think. I'm just trying to look out for you, that's all."   
  
Hermione hesitated for a moment and was about to reply when a clanking sound resonated on the window next to the bed. Both girls jumped in shock, and Ginny almost fell onto the floor before she managed to pick herself back up. Another clank on the window and Hermione turned back to her friend, her eyes widened.   
  
"It's him," she said, the words coming out in a form of suppressed gasp. "He … he always does this when it's late and we don't wanna wake you. I-I don't-"   
  
Ginny couldn't help but grin at her friend's sudden loss for words and patted her arm gently. "I know, sweetie. I _do_ have ears, you know? Even when you guys think I'm asleep."   
  
Hermione was too distracted to get embarrassed, and flinched when a third clank echoed through the room. Three pebbles on the window. He always did that.   
  
Oh God.   
  
She turned back to her friend, who was now smiling softly. "It's okay," she said quietly, giving her hand a small squeeze before standing and heading for the door. "I'll be in the living room if you need me."   
  
The door closed behind her before Hermione could even blink. Turning back towards the window where the curtains were still drawn, she bit her lower lip in contemplation and tried to decide what to do. What did he want? Was he coming over to rub it in her face again? To see how affected she was by this? He wouldn't do something that cruel, would he?   
  
She wrung her hands nervously, glancing back and forth between the window and the door. Then again, she hadn't thought he would break it off as cruelly as he had done this afternoon either. Maybe if she just let him stand outside and say what he had to say, she wouldn't be as hurt if all he came for was to gloat. In any case, she could always slam the window shut in his face.   
  
Decision made, she jumped off the bed and turned towards the window. Her hands shaking, she pulled the curtains aside and opened the window so the glass wouldn't reflect her own image back at her.   
  
Suddenly face to face with him. She would've gasped, had she felt like there was any air left in her lungs. His hair was whiter than usual from the snowflakes quietly falling from the sky, making his unruly bangs cling slightly to his forehead. It wasn't slicked back, which was more than a little unusual. He was shivering, not enough for anyone to notice unless you really looked for it and his eyes seemed drawn in their sockets. They pleaded with her, even if he hadn't spoken a word and she'd already forgotten that she was supposed to be angry.   
  
His voice was hoarse and hesitant when he finally spoke. "Can I-"   
  
"Yeah," she breathed, stepping back so he could crawl inside and close the window again.   
  
He turned around afterwards, facing her again and both of them seemed frozen in their place for a long minute. Finally he took a step forward, causing her to take a step back. "I'm sorry," he whispered, taking another step.   
  
"It's okay," she said quietly, not remembering until it was too late that it was her turn to take a step back. Suddenly he was right in front of her, not trying to touch her or pull her to him. She gulped, wondering for a second why that fact bothered her.   
  
"I'm sorry," he said again. His voice as soft as velvet. He had her frozen in her spot, his eyes once again filling with more than he ever knew he was letting her see.   
  
"There's nothing you can do about it, right?" she asked, her voice cracking slightly. He sighed and his eyes fell closed. She wanted nothing more than to reach up and caress that frown away.   
  
"I didn't want this," he whispered. "You know that, don't you? I don't want this. I need you."   
  
She wasn't sure if she wanted to cry or yell at him to get out right then. He'd never told her that before. She knew how hard it was for him, knew how hard it was for him to open up to anyone. He'd never looked her in the eye when he told her loved her. He wasn't looking at her this time either, but he'd said it and it meant so much, filled her to the rim with something she couldn't quite put her finger on. All she knew was that she needed him closer.   
  
Linking her arms around his neck, she pulled him to her and buried her head in the crook of his neck. "I need you, too," she whispered back, afraid of letting go, afraid that he would push her away and run out of the room as fast as possible.   
  
He didn't. His arms wrapped around her waist and he held her so close she wasn't sure she could breathe. She didn't care. He nuzzled her neck affectionately and sighed again, this time the sound much more shaky. "Don't let go," he muttered, his lips faintly brushing over her skin as he spoke.   
  
She merely shook her head and held him tighter, closing her eyes when he began planting small kisses on her neck, trailing them up to her jaw line and over her cheek. He kissed the corner of her mouth, drawing back when a small whimper escaped her throat. "I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I'll stop."   
  
He didn't get a chance to pull away before her lips were on his, her hand running through his hair and her body suddenly closer, somehow. He didn't know they could get much closer than before. He fell into her, relaxed in her embrace and allowed a small moan to escape as their lips explored, an overwhelming sense of familiarity washing over both of them.   
  
He hadn't been sure of what he was doing, wasn't even sure that she would let him inside. He'd already gotten much more than he deserved, but he couldn't bring himself to stop it. He needed this, needed her so badly.   
  
God, how was he going to live without her?   
  
He pulled away from the kiss when she began opening the buttons on his cape, and gasped for air. "Hermione," he breathed, pressing his forehead against hers. "This doesn't mean that … anything's changed. Do you understand? I want this, I want you so much, but I don't … I don't want you to do this and think that … I couldn't bear it if…"   
  
She opened her eyes dazedly and realized he had her pinned up against the door. When had they moved? "I know," she whispered, cupping his face in her hands. "I know, love. It's fine. One last time, okay?"   
  
Her voice cracked as she said the words and she fought against the feeling of panic that washed over her. He was here now. She knew what he was here for and she understood. She needed to say goodbye this way, too. She could cry later.   
  
A small whimper escaped his throat and he pulled her closer to him, their bodies touching almost from top to bottom. He knew it was true, had known all along, but she'd been the one brave enough to say it out loud. Now that she had, he just wanted to force the words back, make it so they were never said. Never even thought by either of them.   
  
He bent his head to her neck again and began planting butterfly kisses and some longer lasting ones all over her soft skin. "I love you," he whispered, desperately needing her to hear it. He never wanted her to doubt that. Not ever.   
  
She closed her eyes and sighed, her fingers weaving through his hair as his lips brushed over a particularly sensitive spot on her neck. "I love you, too, Draco."   
  
He lifted his head again and looked her. Studied her in all her glory. Her eyes were still closed, her lips were moist and swollen, and her face was slightly flushed. Not taking his eyes off her for one second, he gently ran his fingers over her jaw line, his thumb brushing her lips as they went past. Her eyes were big and hooded when she opened them and looked at him. He smiled ever so softly, his thumbs running over her cheeks before cupping her face in his hands. He kissed her forehead, her nose and her cheeks before finally landing on her lips where he softly nipped and tasted, savoring every moment for as long as he could.   
  
When her fingers began working on the buttons of his cape again, he didn't object. He let her slide it over his shoulders and fall onto the floor with a small rippling sound. Before she could get any further, he pulled away from the kiss and took both her hands in his. "Come on," he said huskily, leading her back towards the bed. "Let's get you out of those clothes." 

------------------------------------------------------------------¤------------------------------------------------------------------

He buttoned up his cape and looked at her again. It was impossible to take his eyes off of her. She was still sleeping, her curly hair covering the entire pillow and her body exposed from the waist up. Smiling softly, he reached down and pulled the sheet up to cover her fully. He lingered for a moment, his hand brushing a few stray hairs off her cheeks and out of her eyes. "I love you, Hermione," he whispered, kissing her lips softly before standing up again.   
  
He had to walk away. He knew it. He just didn't know it was gonna be so hard.   
  
Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out the letter he'd had so carefully close to him all day. Sighing softly, he placed it on her nightstand and immediately walked towards the door. He wouldn't look back. That would positively break him.   
  
His hand rested on the door handle and he cursed under his breath. He just had to open it. It wasn't that difficult. Just press the handle down and he would be gone.   
  
It wasn't that difficult.   
  
He pressed his forehead against the door and closed his eyes in frustration. "Goddamn coward, Draco," he whispered. "You chose this. You bloody finish it."   
  
He heard sheets rustle behind him and made his decision. Quickly pulling the handle, he rushed out of the door and closed it behind him with a click of finality and seemed to echo inside his head for minutes.   
  
He had to get out of there as fast as possible. Turning around, he didn't expect to find Ginny sitting on the living room couch, looking at him with a mix of disgust and wonder in her eyes. Nothing he wasn't used to.   
  
"Still up?" he muttered noncommittally and began heading for the hallway.   
  
"I was waiting for you actually," she replied dryly.   
  
He stopped and turned around again, his eyes cold and uncaring. "Well, what can I do for you?"   
  
"What, no witty comeback today?" Ginny said in mock-surprise. "I have to say, I'm a little disappointed."   
  
He smirked snidely. "Go pester someone else then. I'm not in the mood."   
  
"Well, I'll get right to it then," she indulged, getting up from her seat and walking towards him. "Don't come near her again, Malfoy. I'm not even close to kidding."   
  
"Not a problem."   
  
She paused, momentarily taken back. "What?"   
  
"I said, that's not gonna be a problem. Anything else?"   
  
She stood still for a minute longer, looking at him with narrowed eyes. "You know, the second I think you might actually be half-decent and that you actually _care_ about her-"   
  
"You don't have the faintest idea of how I feel about her, Weasley," Draco snapped defiantly, turning around again to get to the door. "So save your speech for someone who'll degrade themselves to listen."   
  
"I know she means a lot to you," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "I also know that you're engaged to someone else. What kind of respect do you show her by coming here and letting her think she can get you back? None of us are living in a dream world, Malfoy. Least of all you. So don't come near her again unless you really _do_ want her back, 'cause I have to be here and pick up the pieces _long_ after you're gone."   
  
Draco's hand was on the doorknob. He wet his lips and took in a deep breath, taking in what the young Weasley had said. "Like I said, you don't have to worry about that," he finally replied before walking out the door, leaving a rather bemused Ginny behind him.   
  
He dug his hands into his pockets and let out a long breath of air as he walked down the driveway and into the open street.   
  
It was true, he usually didn't live in a dream world. None of them did. They'd both known all along what this night would end with and they'd both accepted that long before anything else was done.   
  
But for a moment, he'd been there. In a dream world. And she'd been right there with him. 


	3. I Will Remember You

_Chapter inspired by Sarah McLachlan's breathtaking song (and my personal favorite), "I Will Remember You."_   
----------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

  
She'd woken up the very second that Draco had slipped out of her room, his cape fluttering behind him as he closed the door. She sat up with a small gasp, the sheet she'd been covered with falling into her lap as her eyes darted around the room, completely unaware of her surroundings for a brief moment.   
  
When had she fallen asleep? She'd fought so hard to stay awake – to lie close to him and listen to every intake of his breath, every rise and fall of his chest. She knew he'd wanted her to fall asleep – he couldn't stay any longer, no matter how much she tried to prolong the moment. But he hadn't said anything. Simply let her have her time with him, her legs tangled into his in complete disarray before exhaustion had finally taken its toll on her.   
  
She sighed weakly, unsure of what to do next. Spotting her pajamas now laying in a rumpled mess of discarded clothes on the floor, she reached down and put it back on, buttoning the top part carefully, with movements that seemed almost too slow. Too uncaring. Her eyes shifted around the room again, only pausing when she spotted a letter with her name on it on her nightstand. A letter that hadn't been there earlier.   
  
She reached for it and crossed her legs as she examined the envelope with utmost care. The paper was wrinkled and slightly torn, as if someone had tossed and turned it over and over again in their hands. She ran her fingers over her name, her heartbeat increasing as she noticed the careful penmanship.   
  
She'd recognize his handwriting anywhere. 

------------------------------------------------------------------¤------------------------------------------------------------------

  
  
"Bloody nerve of that pompous wanker," Ginny mumbled testily as she stalked back and forth across the living room, shooting daggers at the closed front door every five seconds. "How can anyone bring themselves to _like_ that ferret? I swear, if it wasn't for the fact that I have to be supportive, I'd wring his little-"   
  
She paused mid-sentence when a loud sob curled through the house, the horrible sound coming from Hermione's bedroom. Ginny only took a second to stand in shock before she ran towards her destination and opened her best friend's door swiftly.   
  
"What? What's wrong?"   
  
Hermione had her head buried in her hands, her curls swirling around her head in a tangled mess as she cried, her entire body shaking from the effort. She looked up when her friend entered the room, only to break out in another round of hysterics. "I-I was w-wrong, Ginny," she stuttered between sobs. "I thought he … b-but I was wrong. Oh God. Why didn't he tell me?"   
  
_I'll do whatever it takes to make you let me go. I'll lie if I have to._   
  
"Honey," Ginny tried weakly, still in a bit of a shock over her friend's sudden behavior. "Calm down for a second. I can barely understand what you're saying."   
  
_But what if I told you that the only reason I have is that I'm scared?_   
  
"I have to find him," Hermione hiccupped and practically jumped from the bed. "I have to … t-talk to him." She brushed past the younger girl without a second glance and stopped in the living room for a moment, scanning her surroundings as if she was in a daze.   
  
"What?" Ginny asked again, now staring at an empty bedroom. She blinked. What just happened? She turned around and saw Hermione already grabbing her cape from the coat rack beside the door. "Are you insane? It's freezing outside. Where are you go-"   
  
"I can't talk right now," Hermione interrupted as she hurriedly threw a scarf around her neck. "Did you see which way he went, Ginny?" She turned to her friend, desperately trying to wipe away the current line of tears running down her cheeks. "You have to tell me. Please." Her voice cracked at the last word and she swiped angrily at her wet face again.   
  
"I…" Ginny began, wringing her hands nervously. "I didn't…"   
  
"Never mind," Hermione cut her off again and opened the door to the freezing cold outside. She hesitated for a moment, then turned around again. "Please don't worry. I just … I know I'm acting crazy, but … I need to talk to him, okay? That's all it is."   
  
"Are you sure?" Ginny asked quietly, taking a hesitant step forward.   
  
"Yeah," Hermione replied, nodding briefly. "Don't wait up." With that, she closed the door behind her and started running as fast as her legs could carry her.   
  
_You're my life. And you will be the death of me. With just one word, you can crush me. Just one look and I'll do whatever you ask of me. You opened my eyes, my love. And without you, they will close again._   
  
The letter was still clutched tightly in her hand as she ran into the street, looking both ways with a surge of panic rushing through her like she'd never felt before. It was still night, almost dawn, and the town seemed almost desolate at this hour. He couldn't have gone far. Another sob escaped her throat as she took a few steps in the left direction, all the while looking around with frantic movements. He _couldn't_ have gone that far.   
  
"Draco," she whispered brokenly, squeezing the letter so tight she feared it might tear up in its already fragile state. She turned around again and froze immediately. She saw something. In the far end of the street, just before the road turned, was a lone figure walking further and further away from her. "Draco," she said again as she picked up her pace, hope suddenly taking over. "Draco!" she cried.   
  
He stopped dead in his tracks. She ran even faster, pushing herself to the limit to get to him as fast as she could. Her chest ached from the effort and her now slightly lessened crying, but she refused to let it slow her down. Only when she was about a hundred feet from him did he turn around, his movements slow, his expression cold as ice.   
  
She slowed down and finally stopped in front of him, momentarily taken back by his sudden yet visible change. "Granger," he acknowledged tersely, his voice devoid of any emotion. "What are you doing? Thought the goodbyes were over and done with."   
  
She almost reeled back in shock, her eyes widening slightly upon his question. "What's this?" she answered with one of her own, her voice wavering slightly as she held up the letter.   
  
He eyed the parchment in her hand with little enthusiasm, although she was sure she saw his eyes flicker if only for a second. "Do I really need to explain what constitutes a letter to you, Granger?" he asked, quirking one eyebrow. "Honestly. Either you're letting yourself go or we've all been overestimating you for the past seven years."   
  
"Stop it," she snapped harshly, anger suddenly rising up in her. "You don't get it, do you?" She shoved the letter in his chest with all the force she could muster. "_This_ is you, _Malfoy_," she sneered, enunciating his surname like it was venom on her tongue. "This, what you're doing right now, is _not_. So stop it." They stared at each other for a long moment, both too out of it to speak. Hermione kneeled down and reached for the discarded letter again, carefully brushing the settled snow off its surface. "Why didn't you tell me any of this?" she asked, her voice softer this time as she stood up and met his gaze.   
  
"I _did_ tell you," he chastised flatly, fighting her every step of the way. "It's all in there, isn't it?"   
  
"You know perfectly well what I mean," she cried, a small gasp following as her chest seemed to tighten. Why has he being like this? Why did he give her that letter if he didn't want her to come to him, to make him understand that he didn't have to be scared? "You can't _do_ this to me. Say something, please! Something that matters."   
  
He bit his lower lip hard as he watched her crumble before him, struggling to maintain whatever self-control he was hanging onto. She wanted him to say something? Fine. He could say plenty. "Not here," he sneered, looking around for a more private place for them to have this discussion. The town may have been pretty much asleep, but he didn't want to risk getting interrupted just the same. Spotting an abandoned alley just a little further up the street, he pointed a fixed glance at her and started walking, trusting her to follow.   
  
Once they were inside the alley, he closed the gate that surrounded the area and muttered a barely audible "silencio" to make sure that they would indeed be alienated from the outside world. Only then did he turn to face her, anger boiling inside him that he had never learned to control.   
  
"What do you _want_ from me?!" he exclaimed harshly, making her flinch in her position a few feet from him. He advanced on her faster than a predator moving in on its prey. "I gave you _everything_ I had tonight! And now you want more? I don't _have_ anything else, Hermione!"   
  
Although backing away from his decisively larger form, her fixed gaze on him had never been more determined. "I just want the truth!" she yelled back, holding up the letter again. "Was it all a lie? That stuff about you being engaged. That was just to get me off your back, wasn't it? Some easy way out for you?"   
  
He laughed humorlessly. "What do you want me to say? Yes, all right? You wouldn't give up and I had to say something to…"   
  
"You're a bloody _coward_, Draco!" she screamed off the top of her lungs, pushing him as hard as she could. "I can't believe you would stoop that low and make me feel so _dirty_ just for being with you-"   
  
All of a sudden, he had her pinned against the side of the building, using his strength as an advantage to cease her struggling to a minimum. "But you did it anyway, didn't you?" he remarked slyly, a small smirk creeping up on his face. "You knew and you did it anyway. Does it ease your conscience to know that there's no fiancé, Granger? You didn't know that when you were in your room with me."   
  
Her eyes narrowed with anger as she fought against his hold. "Bastard…"   
  
"What does it matter anyway?" he asked harshly, pressing her further against the cold brick wall. "I might not know her name yet, or even what she looks like … but don't you think my father's already found a wife for me?" He shook his head. "And even if he hasn't, no matter what we do or say … hell, we might even stop me from getting married altogether, but no matter what we do to change his mind, I can never marry _you_."   
  
She stopped her struggling and stared at him as those last words passed his lips.   
  
He looked back at her, his gaze steady and his body shaking slightly from the cold. "I can't marry you," he said, the words barely above a whisper. "I can't. Not ever. And I can't be with you any longer."   
  
"Why?" she whispered, her voice suddenly stuck in her throat.   
  
His temper faltered temporarily as he watched her frail and resigned form under him. He loosened his grip on her before speaking. "Because my father knows about us. He gave me tonight to say goodbye."   
  
She closed her eyes and sighed in defeat. "We could run away," she attempted weakly, already knowing what his answer would be.   
  
He smirked bitterly and ran his thumbs over her palms, repeating the motion over and over again. "Where would we go? Do you think we could just go somewhere and start a whole new life?"   
  
She opened her eyes again and glared at him in spite. "_I_ could."   
  
He shook his head, his smirk turning into a small smile. "No, you couldn't. You seem to think we're living some kind of fairy tale, Hermione. Either we have to ride into the sunset together or I have to give up my entire life for you. Or I have to die for you – hell, even die with you. Sorry to break it to you, my Juliet, but _life_ doesn't work that way."   
  
"I know that," she hissed, her wrists once again twisting and turning in his grip to break lose. "In case you haven't noticed, you're the one who seems to think that the entire world will shun us without even having given it a try."   
  
"And you don't?" he asked. "Tell me something. What exactly do you think your parents would say if you showed up on their doorstep with me tagging along one day? Do you think they'd invite me in and let me sit at their table so I could talk about how _wonderful_ you are and how _happy_ you make me? Do you think your father would just throw an arm around my shoulders and declare me the perfect son in law?" His head drew nearer and his voice dropped to a low whisper. "Do you think he would do that?"   
  
She could almost swear there was a tinge of hope somewhere in that question. "No," she croaked quietly, watching as another smirk settled on his lips.   
  
"Didn't think so."   
  
"All right, Malfoy," she snapped, his attitude once again fueling her anger. "Just tell me that I've wasted my time on you and that you never had any intention of-"   
  
"Stop," he interrupted sternly. "Stop talking. Damn it, you _always_ twist and turn my words around. When I have said that we've been a waste of time? When have I ever even _thought_ that?" He let go of her so suddenly that she had to brace herself against the brick wall to keep from falling, and he stepped back, his chest falling and rising unevenly from his earlier outburst. "You don't think that I've turned this over in my head so many times that I've become almost obsessed with it?" he asked angrily. "There's no way that this can ever work, Hermione. I can't…" He left his sentence hang mid-air and sighed, running his fingers through his blonde hair.   
  
"You can't what?" she prodded, suddenly feeling her upper hand return as she walked closer to him.   
  
He waved her off. "Nothing. It was nothing."   
  
"No. Tell me." She reached him and lifted his chin so he couldn't look anywhere else but at her. "This is the problem, Draco. All that other stuff – what everyone else thinks – you've never cared about that. You're scared of us. Of what it does to you. I've always known you've never been comfortable with this kind of closeness, but I didn't think it was-"   
  
"You don't know me," he remarked coldly, his gaze boring into her and unwilling to let go.   
  
She shook her head and reached up to cup his face in her hands, standing on her toes so she was at level with him. "Where do you get that ludicrous idea from? Of _course_ I know you." He was about to protest, but she began talking before he could get a word in edgewise. "I know you like to study people and their behavior, because you wonder how they can show their emotions so freely. I know you hate it when people are better than you, because you know that'll disappoint your father yet again and you can't stand to disappoint that man. You have to win at everything, no matter what, or you'll feel like the whole world just crashed down on your shoulders."   
  
He grabbed her by the arms and held on tight as each observation she made swirled around in his head. Suddenly, he couldn't think. "Stop," he whispered, closing his eyes tight.   
  
She stroked his hair gently and kissed his forehead. "I know you love chocolate chip cookies and staying in bed for as long as possible. You like to hum when you shave and you always hold me so close when you think I'm asleep at night." Her voice was beginning to shake, and she pressed her forehead to his, listening to his uneven breathing. "I know you're scared of so many things that you won't share with me. You're scared of the Dark Mark – that maybe one day, your father will actually convince you to get it. I know you're scared of intimacy, but you need it just the same. I know I can make you laugh, but I can't make you cry."   
  
He opened his eyes again and looked at her, his body now shaking from more than just the cold. "Stop."   
  
"I know you love me, Draco, even though you don't want to," she whispered as her eyes clouded over, and she offered him a trembling smile. "It goes against everything you were brought up to believe in, but you don't seem to care anymore. And I know that if we go our separate ways now, we'll never see each other again and I can't … I can't bear the thought of-"   
  
A strangled sound erupted from his throat and the next moment his lips were on hers, slamming their bodies into the brick wall again and pressing himself closer against her, to the point where it was almost painful. She gasped in shock and he took the opportunity while her lips were parted to deepen the kiss, his hands now roaming her body in a furious pace. He kissed her ferociously, like she was the water he had been craving after spending months in the dry desert, and she collapsed against him, completely surrendered to his will.   
  
His hands found hers and their fingers entwined within an instant. Never letting go. Not until his lungs were burning from lack of oxygen did he pull away from her, his breathing erratic and his head dizzy. He moved so his lips were right next to her ear, his warm breath on her cold skin making her shiver. "We could keep doing this for years on end, couldn't we?" he asked, his voice low and filled with tremor. "Take turns to nearly drive the other one insane. We're excellent at that, aren't we?"   
  
"Draco," she whispered, holding on to him as if he would run away at first given chance. It was as if fear hovered around him – as if it engulfed him at that very moment. He couldn't express it, but he could let her feel it, let her feel every inch of what he was going through. She almost whimpered as the overwhelming sense of panic coming from him rushed through her.   
  
"What do you want me to say?" he demanded roughly, moving so he could look at her again, his eyes wild and frightened. "_Yes_, damn it, being with you turns me into this … this _thing_ I can't recognize. Damn it, I don't want to be without you, but when I'm around you I feel so bloody vulnerable and I can't _stand_ that, Hermione! I can't give you that kind of power over me."   
  
She shook her head wildly, trying to object but unable to find the words. "I would never try to abuse what we have, you know that. I hurt when you hurt. And it-it's okay if you're scared or you feel vulnerable, because it always goes both ways. You're never alone in this."   
  
Everything seemed to slow down all at once. He looked at her for what seemed like an eternity without speaking. The sky was starting to grow brighter and life was slowly starting to recommence in the streets, but they were closed off from the world, stuck in a silencing spell that let nothing penetrate its walls.   
  
After a moment of silence, he pressed his forehead to hers and closed his eyes, feeling her breath roll over his face, heating his cold skin. "Why didn't you stay at home?" he whispered, all strength from the previous moment gone again. "I was already far away. We'd said goodbye, Hermione."   
  
"Because you wanted me to find you," she said hoarsely. "You wouldn't have left me that letter if you didn't want me to come reassure you. Not that I blame you. It's what I do, after all." She smiled lightly, doing her best to try and lighten the mood a little.   
  
He offered her a vague smile as his thumbs gently ran over her cheeks, brushing away any remnants of tears that might've been left. "Look at you," he scolded mildly, finally noticing the thin layer of clothes she had on. "Silly girl. You'll catch a cold. Come here." He opened his cape and pulled her close to him, extending the thick fabric around her. She sighed gratefully as his arms came around her and she buried her head in his chest, relishing in the warmth that emitted from him.   
  
"Thank you," she whispered.   
  
They stood like that for a while, neither of them speaking nor moving. Her heartbeat was returning to normal again, she mused. So was his. Her head was so perfectly nestled in his sweater and his fingers drew lazy circles on her back. She could easily fall asleep this way.   
  
He nuzzled his nose in her hair and let his fingers weave into her bushy curls. "I do love you."   
  
She smiled silently and held him a little tighter. "I know."   
  
Another moment passed before he spoke. "I'm tired, Hermione."   
  
"Me, too."   
  
"No." He pushed her chin up and she met his gaze questioningly. "I'm tired of this. This little dance we do. I think I need to stop trying to run away from you, 'cause it's obviously not working."   
  
She smiled again and moved up to brush her lips lightly over his, her heart soaring when she heard him sigh into the kiss. "Then let's just try, Draco," she offered softly. "I'm not asking for promises, but I need you to trust me. I won't hurt you, love. I just want to be with you. The rest of the world can wait a little while longer. Please."   
  
He opened his eyes to find her inches from him, so close that he couldn't see anything else. But he welcomed it.   
  
His hand once again came to rest on her cheek, stroking it lightly and watching as she turned her head to kiss his palm. He shivered. Tightening his hold around her, he leaned in till they were forehead to forehead again and his eyes fell closed as the love of his life overtook his senses.   
  
A long moment later, he gave her his answer. 

**end.**


End file.
